A Simple Touch
by Take
Summary: Sometimes, a simple touch is all the comfort you need.


*Standard disclaimers*  
  
A Simple Touch  
Take (Nov '01 - Feb '02)  
  
********  
  
There's a full moon tonight. It's light is creating eerie shadows in the corners of my room. Not that I need any light to see the images in my mind's eye: Otousan's shocked, grief-stricken face, a horrified disbelief at how I didn't seem to care that Kaasan was gone . . . Shuuichi's pale features, eyes red-rimmed and puffy, tear tracks marking his cheeks . . .  
  
Kaasan's smiling face, beaming gently down at us from her picture's place on the altar . . .  
  
The measuring stares of the various friends and acquaintances come to pay their respects -- their whispered conversations about the beloved son that couldn't even mourn his mother's passing . . .  
  
Like ice, they murmur behind my back.  
  
Now, as I lie in my bed the house feels lonely . . . and now, away from prying eyes, I can finally allow myself to grieve.  
  
I've held my tears back for so long that, at first, none come. Just the sharp pain in my chest that feels like a knife through my heart. I massage the spot numbly, remembering Kaasan's voice and how it comforted me when I was hurt.  
  
/Ne, Shuu-chan, it'll be all right. Let me kiss it and make it better./  
  
I swallow thickly; Kaasan would always say that. And more than anything I want her to come in through my door and make it better like she used to. But she can't, because she's . . .  
  
Because she's . . .  
  
Dead.  
  
My mother is dead.  
  
The enormity of it hits me. My mother is dead. And there's no one to stop the tears now, no one to kiss it better and tell me everything will be fine. My shoulders shake and my breath comes in hitching gasps as I bite my lip in an effort to muffle my sobs. Otousan and Shuuichi are just down the hall, and I don't want them to hear me. Tears are private things, meant to be shed away from well-meaning sympathizers.  
  
"Kurama."  
  
Hiei's voice is like a dark caress on my nerves and I can't suppress the shudder that goes through me as he says my name. I turn my back to him, hastily wiping away my tears; I don't want him to think me weak.  
  
I can hear the rustle of his cloak as he makes his way toward my bed. Kind, that he gives me that much warning as to how close he is. Normally, he doesn't make a sound.  
  
A small hand is placed on my upper arm, and I stiffen. I can't bear to have Hiei see me like this. The bed dips as he settles his weight next to me. My arm is rubbed gently, a soothing rhythm.  
  
"I heard."  
  
Hiei's touch burns me through my pajama top, a spot of heat on my frozen body. I start to shake uncontrollably. I hunch my shoulders, curling into a fetal position. I choke, fighting down the fresh slew of tears threatening to fall.  
  
The hand on my arm tightens. Hiei leans over to whisper in my ear. "Let go, fox." He draws me closer.  
  
It's too much. I shatter.  
  
My chest heaves with huge gasping sobs as I pour out my grief. I can't stop; each time the tears begin to lessen a memory sets them off again. I can barely breathe, let alone see. And through it all, Hiei is there. Just sitting with me, his thumb stroking my arm. Just . . . there.  
  
Finally, the tears begin to slow. My breath hitching in my throat, I turn to face my best friend. Hiei's eyes are unusually soft as he returns my gaze. Silently, he hands me the box off tissues sitting on my nightstand.  
  
He watches as I try to dry myself out, then rises to retrieve the wastebasket. He waits until I'm done, the retakes his seat on my bed.  
  
I manage a shaky, watery smile. "Thanks, Hiei."  
  
"Hn." Hiei shrugs and looks away, shifting uneasily.  
  
My smile widens and becomes something more genuine. Hiei, so uncomfortable with overt displays of emotion. Only the darkness of night allows him to take action, his compassion hidden by the shadows. This will never be spoken of, never be acknowledged in the light of day. But it's enough.  
  
Taking a chance, I curl my body around his, resting my hand on his knee. Slowly, he raises his hand to cover mine, squeezing it briefly. Hiei, I muse sleepily, doesn't need to use words and platitudes to comfort me. Sometimes, a simple touch is all that's needed.  
  
~Owari~  
  
******  
  
Author's Notes:  
This started out as a companion piece to "Gone", and turned into something more. Personal experiences during the period in which this fic was written have been a big influence on this story. 


End file.
